


Heartless

by pidgeonpostal



Series: The Heartless AU [1]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Clover Ebi is put in Significant Peril, M/M, Magical Heart Surgery, Multi, Proof that James Ironwood Has a Heart, Rating for swearing and implied past sex, Violence against Villains, Witches, mild body horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 13:08:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29136072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pidgeonpostal/pseuds/pidgeonpostal
Summary: “James,” Qrow said hoarsely. “When people called you the Heartless King, I thought they were beingmetaphorical.”“The name came first.”[General Ironwood resorted to drastic personal measures to win a war. Qrow and Clover find James in what's left. This is the James Ironwood Rehabilitation Sanctuary Fic that I've been writing since the mid-V8 hiatus began. It's a bit rough and a bit rushed, but I wanted to finish it before V8 started up again, because hoo boy I am not ready forthat.The body horror tag was added in an abundance of caution and refers to both the starting premise and two specific scenes, which will be explained in the opening notes of those chapters.]
Relationships: Clover Ebi/James Ironwood, Qrow Branwen/Clover Ebi, Qrow Branwen/Clover Ebi/James Ironwood, Qrow Branwen/James Ironwood
Series: The Heartless AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2185065
Comments: 43
Kudos: 39





	1. In Which Qrow Receives a Visitor

**Author's Note:**

> Okay. So here’s the thing. This started out as “oh isn’t this idea neat” but I think it ended up somewhere a little different. Some more specific notes:
> 
> \- The entire premise is that James' heart is not currently in his body. At two different points (I will also note this at the start of those chapters), someone either looks at it or holds it in their hands. It's not discussed graphically, but it does happen, and I figured that might be unnerving enough to merit the body horror tag.  
> \- The entire point of this fic was to get more into James' emotional/mental healing post-trauma, and then didn't really get there in the way I thought I would, because I did not have the emotional capacity myself. So this is still a fic about James getting help, but it's not cathartic in that deeper way.  
> \- I got exhausted while writing this and started [Being Known](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28319571/chapters/69387825) as almost an AU of an AU, but then finished it before this. So if you've read that, there's some similar structure because of that!
> 
> If there's anything in those first two points that doesn't feel like it's been tagged well, please let me know so I can do better!

Once upon a time, there was a village near the edge of a wood.

The wood was not a normal wood, the village said. Cursed for hundreds of years, and the new inhabitant was only making it worse. They warned passerby of the witch who lived amongst the trees, who stole children in the night and did gods-knew-what with them in that dark and untamed wood. You were not to go into the wood past sunset, they said. The witch’s magic would swallow you whole, or curse you as well, and then where would you be? No, better to be rid of magic entirely. The village would have none of it. They would be better without it.

Utter horseshit, in Qrow’s opinion, but after a few decades of being neighbors, he wasn’t feeling terribly charitable. He also didn’t want an entire village on his doorstep, though, so he left them well enough alone in their squat little houses outside the wood.

 _His_ house was situated near the center of the wood, a simple but respectable cottage that looked to be about one room but actually had about ten so far. Qrow had had to do some interior remodeling in the past. It had been a huge expenditure of magic, but more than worth it. And he kept them because the extra enchantments seemed to put the woods more at ease with him. The trees seemed to close in less over his chimney these days. The day before, it had almost been sunny. Things were looking up.

Now if only the damn pantry would cooperate.

Qrow sighed. “We really gotta do this every day, huh. It’s breakfast. That means _coffee_ beans.”

The pantry was unmoved. The bowl he’d placed within it continued to be full of dry kidney beans.

Qrow closed the doors of the pantry again. Fourth time’s the charm. _“Coffee_ beans. Not black, not pinto, not kidney, and _not_ lentils. How does Ren even do this? Uh, please?”

He opened the doors. The bowl was blessedly full of coffee beans. Qrow smirked. “See? Wasn’t so hard.” He grabbed the bowl and gently pushed the doors closed. They snapped shut with an air of annoyance.

Qrow rolled his eyes and continued with his morning ritual. He’d never really gotten along with the pantry, but it beat having to actually garden or keep livestock out here, or worse, having to go into the village for food. He was quite content out here alone. He sat down at the unnecessarily large kitchen table and sipped his coffee.

There was a knock at the door.

Qrow froze. _No one_ came to the cottage unannounced, it was well hidden by the magic of the wood and Qrow’s own wards. Even heading towards the cottage from within the wood should make someone uneasy enough to turn back.

There was another knock.

Qrow walked to the door and grabbed an ornate dagger from its place on a nearby rack. With his free hand, he flung the door open.

General James Ironwood was on his doorstep. “Oh, Qrow,” he said in a perfect monotone. “You’re the mage?”

Qrow slammed the door in the face of Atlas’ last military dictator.

James knocked again. “Qrow. I can explain.”

There were levels to the panic that Qrow was feeling, so he stopped and dealt with them in order of importance. First, even though they weren’t exactly his responsibility anymore, he knew the kids were currently safe. They all knew how to contact him in an emergency. He twisted the double ring on his right hand, feeling the weight of the enchantment under his fingers, still calm, still untriggered. Right. One down.

Second, James was here. But he had no kingdom and no army anymore. No one was coming to destroy his home or burn him at the stake. At least, no more than usual. Two down.

Third, and least answerable, something was _incredibly wrong_ with James. His eyes were still blue like the winter sky but they were flat and lifeless, and his _voice…_ Qrow had seen death, probably more death than most people. That wasn’t quite death, but it was something close. That man was standing and breathing, and something inside him was dead.

“Qrow. Please open the door. We should talk.”

Qrow took a deep breath. For James. He would figure out what had happened, and make his decision then. He owed James that much.

But he owed _General Ironwood_ jack shit, so he flung the door open again and swung Harbinger’s blade up, allowing it to shift form until he held a black wand no longer than his forearm, nearly buzzing with explosive runes. He pointed it directly at Ironwood’s heart. “I’m feeling generous, so you get a whole minute to explain why you’re here, and what you want.”

He didn’t so much as flinch. “I came to ask permission from the ‘witch of the wood’ to live here. I didn’t realize it would be you. I chose the wood because I heard no one else goes near it.”

“That’s because it’s cursed, it scares them all off. Even _you_ should have been able to feel it.”

“I did not.”

Qrow’s hand tightened on Harbinger. “Don’t lie to me. I’m not one of your minions, I’m not going to believe the _shit_ you spread to scare people into submission. You have a heart, you get scared like the rest of us. Not that it excuses—”

“Had. I had a heart. Not anymore.” James’ face betrayed nothing. He looked completely blank, completely emotionless, like—

Dread crept up Qrow’s spine as the realization unfolded. “Jimmy, you didn’t.”

James was silent for a minute. “It was what had to be done.”

* * *

“How have you been, Qrow?”

“How the _fuck_ do you think, Jimmy?” Qrow shot back from the kitchen, brewing another cup of coffee for himself.

Qrow sat down across from him. “Where do I even start with you. How did you even—” he gestured vaguely at James.

James seemed to absent-mindedly reach for his chest as he spoke. “It was a hypothetical we had researched extensively without running human trials, as the process is physical as well as arcane. Even when it succeeded it was imperfect. I still get flashes of what I had, but they’re manageable.”

 _Manageable._ Gods, this was fucked. Only James could come up with something like this. Qrow eyed where James’ hand rested on his chest. _Physical as well as arcane._

“Show me.”

James lifted his shirt. The damage to his right side was as it had always been, heavily scarred skin mixed with metal plating. All of that, Qrow had seen before. But there was a new one. Dead center in his chest was a plate the size of Qrow’s hand, absolutely covered in runes so small Qrow could barely read them. It would take days to untangle them all, but he got the gist of it.

“James,” Qrow said hoarsely. “When people called you the Heartless King, I thought they were being _metaphorical.”_

“The name came first.”

It made a gruesome kind of sense, as Qrow read through what was on the plate. Suppressing emotions would have run the risk of having them break through. So, he anchored them to something symbolic and removed them. The bastard had literally _cut out his own heart._ Qrow had been right. This was James’ body, with James’ memories. But a big part of James was missing. “How are you even alive?”

James lowered his shirt and smoothed it out. “The heart is a simple machine. A replacement was sufficient.”

Qrow was shaking. “James. We need to fix this. Where’s your heart?”

“Gone.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“I gave it to someone I trusted and told them to destroy it.”

Qrow was stunned. “James, that’s…why did you do it?”

“Qrow,” James looked at him with those hollow eyes. “I knew what had to be done. I couldn’t have made the choices that would save Atlas if I was weighed down with—”

“Weighed down!?” Qrow was standing again, hands on the table. “You thought the best way to keep the kingdom you were supposed to protect safe was to _stop being able to give a shit about it?”_

“I didn’t give up my goals. Only my fear of failing them. The will to survive is not an emotion. Atlas would have fallen to Salem if I hadn’t.”

Qrow stared. James stared right back.

Qrow only spoke when he couldn’t take the silence. “So. You’re just gonna live here, until that body of yours drops dead?”

“Yes.”

“Why?” He didn’t want to ask this. But spite took hold of his voice and held firm. “You’ve finished your goal. Congratulations. Now you have nothing. What ‘goal’ do you further living here, huh?”

There was a flash of something behind James’ eyes, like the last ember of a fire being picked up by the wind. For a moment, Qrow saw James. _His_ James.

“I don’t know what else to do.” There was a tremble to it, something other than the steady tone he’d had since he arrived.

Qrow cursed to himself. He was really gonna get involved in this again, huh. “James,” he said as he leaned over the table. “It might not be too late to fix this.”

“It is. I gave the order to have it destroyed.”

There were only a few people James would have trusted with that. Qrow sighed. “Well let’s hope your little special operatives have a bit of rebellion in them. Now, who has your heart?”

* * *

In the village, a rider stabled his horse.

“And how long will you be in town, Ser?” they asked him, eyeing his crisp white jacket and silver-green pin. Such strange visitors to the village this year.

The rider shrugged. “As long as it takes.” An unhelpful sort of answer from an unhelpful sort of person, to be sure, but his money was good, and they asked no more questions.

The rider set out alone. Over his shoulder was a simple pack. In his hands was a simple metal box with a latch. It beat against his fingers as he made his way to the edge of the wood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I start this fic by listening to Into the Woods nonstop? Yes. Yes I did.


	2. In Which Qrow Has Exactly One Fun

Qrow set up the kitchen table for a scry. Admittedly, his “mirror” for this purpose was a giant serving plate, but it would have to do. He scratched the last remnant of old food from it and got to work.

Scrying on someone he’d never met would be difficult, but it wasn’t impossible, especially if he looped James into the process. After carefully drawing runes and placing various pieces around the plate, everything was set. “Alright Jimmy, give me your hands.”

James complied. Qrow closed his eyes and began muttering the spell. When the structure was in place, he looked up at James. “Tell me about Clover. Imagine him in your mind.”

James recited, “Clover Ebi. Captain of the Ace Operatives, first rank. Graduated—”

This wouldn’t work. “Something more personal,” Qrow interrupted. “What does he look like? What kind of person is he?”

James blinked. “Tall, somewhere between you and me. Built like a warrior. Short brown hair. Green eyes. Confident. Loyal.”

The platter shimmered. A deep green overtook its surface, rushing by like a bird’s eye view of the world. Getting there. “Keep going. What did he like? What was he known for?”

“He was a mage as well. It manifested in small things. Finding lost items, lost people. Injuries that should have killed him missed him by a hair’s breadth. He was untouchable. He liked…”

The image in the platter was slowing down. Something white appeared in the center, small but distinct. So close! “Come on, he liked what?”

“Me.”

There was another flash behind James’ eyes of something _more,_ and the image suddenly sharpened to perfect clarity. Clover Ebi was walking through a forest, holding a small metal box.

Qrow knew if he thought too much about what James had just said he’d lose the scry, so he pushed it and the feelings it evoked down to deal with later. He had to find out where Clover was.

Wait. He _knew_ that forest.

He pulled at the scry to widen its gaze. The door to his own cottage appeared in front of Clover.

Qrow shot out of his seat. The platter on the table cleared to its usual tarnished silver. “How the hell do you Atlas types keep _getting here—”_

He flung the door open. Clover Ebi had his hand raised to knock. He was rather handsome when surprised, Qrow thought, before shoving that thought away and redirecting all of his focus to scowling.

“The heart. Do you have it?”

Clover wasn’t holding the box anymore, which left his hand free to draw a sword _on Qrow’s doorstep._ The gall. “Where is General Ironwood?” he said, calm and collected, like he thought he was intimidating or something.

Well, if he wanted to do it the hard way, it had been a while since Qrow had some fun.

Qrow lifted his foot and kicked Clover in the chest hard enough to throw him off the porch. He drew Harbinger and stepped down to the clearing around the cottage.

Qrow watched Clover’s eyes on the dagger and smiled viciously. He was proud of the work he’d done on Harbinger, and it was always a nice little boost to his ego to see people react for the first time as the little dagger shifted and extended into one of its larger forms. He leveled his beloved greatsword one-handed at the newcomer.

“Saw you walking in with a weird little box. That’s it, isn’t it?”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Clover spat as he rose to his feet.

Oh, and Clover did? That was rich. “So you didn’t destroy it. Pretty little Ace Op, aren’t you supposed to be _good_ at following orders?”

Clover rushed him.

He was strong, Qrow would give him that. Fast, too. And when he darted away from Qrow’s strikes, out of reach by just a fraction, Qrow felt the little vibration in the air that must have been his magic. _Small things,_ James had said. Little pushes and pulls to turn the tide of battle. Clever.

Not clever enough. Qrow tapped his black ring and activated a curse.

It took Clover only a few real hits to realize something was off. He made that surprised face again. “You—”

Qrow swung at his midsection, and when it was easily blocked, shifted Harbinger to its second form.

The blade curved, providing a cradle to set Clover’s waist in, and set Clover off-balance long enough for Qrow to slide to the end of Harbinger’s handle and _pull,_ swinging the scythe and Clover in a wide arc. The momentum carried Clover up and into the trees, but instead of the satisfying _crack_ Qrow had hoped for, Clover landed with his feet against a trunk in a low squat, before flipping forward and down to the ground out of range. It was almost impressive.

Almost.

“How did you know it was magic?” Clover demanded.

Qrow hefted Harbinger over his shoulder. He supposed that was enough fun. “Jimmy told me.”

Clover’s sword arm went slack. “‘Jimmy?’”

“Clover, Qrow,” James said from the door in a voice meant to carry across battlefields. “Stand down.”

“Qrow?” Clover stared. Slowly, he sheathed his sword. “I…think we may have gotten off on the wrong foot.”

“You don’t say,” Qrow muttered, but mirrored him and put Harbinger away. Then, more loudly, “Next time don’t draw a blade on my damn porch unless you’re ready to back it up.”

“My apologies.” Clover smoothed out his jacket and _bowed,_ which, yes, Qrow saw the exact appeal for James now. A perfect toy soldier. “I didn’t realize you knew him.”

“Do you have the heart or not?” Qrow crossed his arms.

Clover’s eyes flickered back to James for a moment as he walked towards them. “I do. I’ve been trying to find him to give it back.”

“I told you to destroy it,” James said, the same way he would say the sky was blue, the same way he said everything now. Qrow shuddered. He hated the way James sounded now.

Clover either ignored it or was used to it. “All due respect, sir, you told me to ‘dispose of it.’ I did. And when the fighting was over I dug it back up and took it with me.”

“You disobeyed a direct order.”

Oh, _now_ he flinched. “I did what you asked.”

“Then why are you here?”

Clover took a deep breath. “Because I think you should reconsider.” He looked into James’ eyes, unflinching. “And take it back.”

Qrow wondered if James even realized what he had. There was a bone-deep surety to Clover, a conviction nearly as strong as James’ own. James had chosen to dedicate himself to Atlas. Clover, it seemed, had dedicated himself to James.

Qrow was going to be sick.

“As much as I hate to admit it, your delivery boy is right,” he said instead of anything else. “We’ve got your heart. Can you take it back?”

“I can,” James said carefully. “With assistance. But it would be inadvisable.”

Qrow snorted. Of course it would. Suddenly being able to feel _anything,_ after years of nothing, would be overwhelming. For someone who had made the choices James had, perhaps even more so.

“We’ll be here for you.” Clover turned that look to Qrow, eyebrows raised. Asking. “Both of us.”

This “agreeing with James’ lackey and probable lover” shit needed to stop. But Qrow nodded. “I’m already set up as a home for wayward witches. Might as well have you here, too.”

They looked at James.

There was another spark, a moment where James looked like he might have _felt_ something. Clover gasped. He must have seen it too.

“I was afraid of this,” James said quietly. “I remember it well. I knew if you asked, I wouldn’t refuse.”

“Please, James,” said Clover.

“Let us help, you idiot,” said Qrow.

James nodded. “Alright.”


	3. In Which Qrow Opens a Box

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first body horror warning. The box with James' heart in it is opened and there is mention of how it got there, though neither is described in significant physical detail.

Qrow invited Clover in on the condition that he left his sword at the door.

“You know I’m a mage too, right?” Clover said. “We’re not exactly helpless without weapons.”

“Usually I don’t have to ask, because witches know it’s polite,” Qrow snapped back. “It’s about _intent,_ not ability.”

Clover wrinkled his nose. It was _not_ cute in the slightest, and thinking about whether or not Clover was cute was _not_ breaking Qrow’s heart just thinking about it. “That’s a pejorative term.”

“What, ‘witch?’ It’s what I am. I like it.”

“It has a history of being used against mages to insinuate we all live in bogs cursing unsuspecting travelers.”

“Yeah, and?”

For a split second, Qrow almost saw Clover’s mouth twitch just a bit upwards. Instead, Clover continued to disappoint him by sighing. “We can agree to disagree—”

Qrow snorted.

“—on that. But I see your meaning on the weapons policy,” Clover conceded, and undid his sword belt, hanging it in a rack next to the door explicitly for this purpose. Small victories, Qrow supposed.

Speaking of small victories. “Tell the pantry what you want to eat, if you need something.” Qrow gestured at the pantry door with one hand as he slid back into his seat. His coffee had gone cold. He wrapped his hand around it and muttered until it was steaming again, listening quietly as Clover approached the pantry.

“You have an enchanted pantry? Impressive. Some bread and cheese, then?” There was the sound of the pantry door opening.

Qrow sipped his coffee.

“...Qrow, I think your pantry is malfunctioning.”

“Oh, really?”

“There’s cheese and a pile of flour in here.”

“Huh. Weird. Better try again.”

Qrow got Clover to try twice more before he caught on, and only because Qrow wasn’t hiding his laughter very well. “It was one of Ozpin’s prototypes,” Qrow wheezed. “It only likes making component parts of things. There’s bread in the bread box, made it yesterday.”

“But it can make cheese?” Clover asked, incredulous.

Qrow shrugged. “It’s just bad milk, I guess. Look pal, I argue with the thing enough as it is, I’m not going to try to get it to produce _less._ Jimmy, you want anyth—”

James was sitting across from him with something nearly approaching a smile on his face.

 _Proximity to the heart,_ Qrow guessed. It was sitting on the table in its little silver box, unopened while they got settled. Qrow wasn’t going anywhere near it until he had more coffee in his system and was sure Clover wouldn’t try to hex him for touching it.

But Clover was busy looking at James, looking at him.

Qrow abruptly stood up. “I’m going for a walk, clear my head. You two catch up or something,” he muttered, and stalked out of his own house, towards the trees.

Stupid, stupid, _stupid._ James had said it himself. He hadn’t gone _looking_ for Qrow. He had just ended up here. He didn’t _care._ Qrow laughed at his own little joke. James didn’t care much about anything right now, much less the pet drunk Ozpin used to keep around that had offered to help him “loosen up.” Never mind that James had taken him up on the offer, thoroughly and repeatedly, right up until he’d left for good.

When Qrow had met him years ago, James was a military man with a stick up his ass. Even so, he seemed to truly care for the people he was supposed to protect, and Qrow had liked that. Very nearly respected it. He never let James catch on to that, though, and never stopped telling him exactly what he thought of James’ plans over the years. He liked to think James appreciated it. A general might get tired of being looked up at like some paragon of justice, Qrow figured.

Well. One look at Clover made it clear that that wasn’t the case.

It wasn’t like Qrow had a claim to James or anything. James could do whatever he wanted, _whoever_ he wanted. They hadn’t been _close._ James had never looked at him the way he had looked at Clover, like he was feeling sunshine on his face for the first time—

Qrow clenched his fists. He ought to be _happy_ James had someone like Clover. He wasn’t going to get there today, though. Maybe not for a while, and not while they were _right here._ He had to get James' heart shoved back in his body, and then shove him and Clover out of his house. That was the only way he was going to survive this.

He took a deep breath of forest air, feeling the sharp bite of winter that still lingered, and something else. He breathed in carefully, trying to pull it out from the rest. Acid? It wasn’t quite right. He’d have to take a look around. Later. Handle what’s in the house first, then what’s around it. He sighed and turned to walk back.

When he entered through the kitchen door again, Clover quickly pulled his hand away from James’ on the table. His other hand was on the box with James’ heart. Qrow gestured at it with his chin. “So, how do we do this?”

“You are most suited to answer that,” James said, turning to him. “It was designed as a curse, to take advantage of the long-lasting nature of them.”

Of course it was. “And that didn’t tip you off that it might be a bad idea, huh.” He looked at Clover. “Not even you?”

Clover’s eyes were cold. “I didn’t know until after.”

“I couldn’t run the risk that you would stop me,” James explained.

Clover looked as mad as Qrow felt. Clover opened his mouth to argue, and Qrow would have joined him if not for the fact that it wasn’t going to fix James any sooner. “Argue with him after we put his heart back, you’ll make more progress that way.”

That almost got him a smile. “Fair enough,” Clover said. “So you’re a curse-breaker?”

“I’m usually in the business of making curses, not breaking them. But yeah, it’s something I can probably do, once I see what we’re working with. James, shirt off. Clover, you gonna let me look in the box?”

James lifted his shirt again. Clover did a bad job of not staring. “You sure?” he asked Qrow eventually. “It’s not exactly pretty.”

“Don’t expect it to be. But it helps to know what we’re working with. Give it here.”

Clover took a deep breath, then pushed the box towards Qrow on the table and opened it, facing away from himself.

Qrow swallowed. It was one thing to hear what James had done. It was another to _see_ it. It was practically glowing with magic, and Qrow tried to focus on that rather than the living flesh underneath. Powerful items often remembered how they were made, and if he could get a glimpse of that—

Fear.

The first thing Qrow felt was overwhelming, unyielding _fear._ He felt his body lock up, every muscle tightened with the need to run or to fight but unable to do either. His vision tunneled and then burst with white light, a white room, the spell inscribed in a circle under James’ feet, James’ hands shaking, holding a knife to his chest and pressing—

“Qrow!”

Qrow blinked. The heart was gone. Clover was looking at him, visibly concerned. Qrow saw the edge of the box as Clover put it away somewhere. “You were shaking, your eyes—”

“I’m fine, lay off,” Qrow said, waving vaguely in Clover’s direction. The room swayed a little.

“Of course,” Clover nodded, then he got up and wandered to the pantry. “Chamomile tea, please,” he enunciated clearly, and opened it. Qrow shook his head to try to recall only what he needed from what he had seen.

A minute later, Clover returned with a hot mug of tea and placed it in front of Qrow. “Here. For your head.”

Qrow reflexively took a sip. It did help, actually. He felt muscles he hadn’t known were tense begin to slowly relax. How had Clover known it would help? Qrow narrowed his eyes in suspicion before he got it. He smirked. “You looked too, didn’t you?”

Clover shuddered. “Once. I didn’t take it well. Did you find what you were looking for?”

“Yeah. Let me get some paper.”

An hour later, between the images Qrow transcribed and the plate in James’ chest, Qrow had a pretty good idea of what they were working with. He was even mostly sure releasing the curse wouldn’t blow up his house. “Alright. It’ll take a day to set up, but it looks doable.”

Clover beamed at him, which was incredibly unfair. “Thank you, Qrow.”

“Yeah, well, thank me after we get your tyrant boyfriend back to normal.”

Clover winced. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

Not arguing the other moniker, though. Huh. “Lover, whatever. Guest room’s up the stairs, first door on the right, might as well get settled. I need a nap.” Qrow got up and staggered up the stairs to his own room, where he was unconscious within seconds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- This got a lil body-horrific, because well, the premise of this fic was that James decided to go cut out his heart. But I tried not to focus on the gore of it, and more on how everyone deals with it.  
> \- Fun facts that are not fun for everyone: I have heard secondhand from people who have taken human anatomy courses that as humans just in general, we are not prepared to see dead bodies. Like you can see pictures and movies and stuff and be fine but in person, people straight up faint. I thought a lot about this while writing the heart scene.


	4. In Which James Gets His Heart Back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the second body horror warning. Part of putting James' heart back in his body requires Qrow to hold it in his hands. Nothing but the heartbeat is described in detail.

Qrow woke up gasping. He’d dreamt of white walls and red blood and the blue of James’ eyes, flat and empty. His head was threatening to split open with every beat of his heart.

He needed coffee. Qrow groaned. He was not in the mood to fight the pantry. But needs must and all that. Qrow threw on some pants and a warm robe and staggered downstairs to face his enemy.

Instead, he smelled coffee.

James was nowhere to be seen, but Clover was making himself at home in Qrow’s kitchen. His coffee pot was steaming happily in a corner, with a clean mug set beside it. Clover looked up at him and acknowledged him with a nod. “James is still sleeping off the travel. Coffee’s ready, pancakes will be soon.”

Qrow got his coffee and sat down in a daze. Clover was _whistling,_ painfully chipper for the horrifying morning hour. Qrow ignored him in favor of sipping his coffee and willing his headache away.

Eventually, a plate with two pancakes on it was placed in front of him, and Clover sat down across from him with his own plate and mug. “You were asleep for a while, you okay?”

“Fine.”

“Right.” Clover took a sip of coffee and took a deep breath. “I wanted to apologize for how I acted yesterday. I wouldn’t have done it if I had known who you were.”

Qrow snorted. “I doubt that.”

“Qrow Branwen, right? James talked about you.”

“Would you have shot me on sight instead?”

“What?” Clover looked almost offended. “No, why would I—James talked about you. _Positively._ Before he did what he did.”

“Odd, I distinctly remember being told I’d be shot.”

Clover closed his eyes and sighed deeply through his nose. It was such a _James_ mannerism that he had to have learned it from him. Qrow tensed in his seat. He didn’t need the constant reminders of the little ways in which Clover had replaced him in James’ life, but he couldn’t turn off that part of his brain, either. He felt trapped in it. “He missed you, you know.”

 _Which parts?_ Qrow knew the answer. “Yeah, I bet he did.”

Clover raised an eyebrow. “I’m not lying to make you feel better. You knew him before, you know how much he cares.”

Qrow shook his head. He did, and that was the worst part. “And look where it got him.”

Clover looked ready to argue, but sighed again, another one of James’ sighs. “I know. It…I know why he thought it was necessary. But I wish it hadn’t come to that.”

“He was afraid.” Qrow recalled what he’d seen when he looked at the heart. “What happened?”

“What have you heard?”

“I know James threw out the old king. Good riddance, by the way. Jacques was awful. Winter is…less awful.”

Clover smirked. “He mentioned you two didn’t get along.”

“We got along fine, nothing wrong with a friendly death match once in a while. Keeps you on your toes.”

“I’m flattered, then. We must be getting along so well,” Clover said dryly. Qrow actually laughed at that one. Finally, the toy soldier had a personality.

“So, James controls the military and Winter coordinates with him, and now all of Atlas is pointed at Salem. Great. So what was the problem?”

“We were losing,” Clover said bluntly. “Badly. We had information leaks we couldn’t find. Salem knew what we would do before we did. So James stopped letting people in. And then…” Clover trailed off, but his eyes darted to the silver box, placed carefully on the counter out of the way.

Qrow’s hand tightened on his mug. “That’s what she wanted. To isolate people. He played right into Salem’s hands.”

“She underestimated him, then. I’m not condoning what he did. But it _worked._ James saved Atlas.”

“Half of Atlas. And none of Mantle.”

Clover looked down at the table, his eyes unfocused as if he was seeing something else. He looked haunted. “And none of Mantle,” he confirmed.

Qrow didn’t flinch. It was a low blow, but it was true, and he wasn’t going to let Clover hide from it. Either of them. But it wasn’t exactly new ground to tread. “You didn’t come here to get court-martialed again. That’s Winter’s job now. So, James got paranoid, took a knife to his chest without telling anyone. Not even you.”

Clover met his eyes. “‘Even me?’ You know we’re not…together, right?”

Qrow took a guess. “You want to be, though.”

Clover twitched, and Qrow knew he’d guessed right. “It’s not that simple.”

“When is it ever with James,” Qrow smiled bitterly. It was more than he wanted to say, more than he should have, and he knew his mistake when Clover’s eyes went wide.

“Oh.” Clover’s whole face softened around that noise.

Qrow scowled and looked away. “Don’t. It was a long time ago.” He looked at the horrid silver box on his counter. “We should get started.”

He led Clover behind the the cottage, to a wide area of dirt and patchy moss. “We need to clear this first.” He grabbed a shovel leaning against the wall of the house and pulled up some of the moss to show Clover the stone slab underneath. “Haven’t had to use it for a while, should check it’s all still there.”

“Impressive,” Clover nodded to the uncovered corner. “Haven’t seen one of these outside of an academy.”

“Who do you think puts them there?” Qrow held out the shovel.

Clover took it. “I suppose. It’s a lot of work to put one down, isn’t it? You’ve been here a while.”

“Couple decades. Right after I graduated.”

“Beacon?”

“Yep.”

“Atlas for me.”

“What a surprise.”

“What gave it away? The white jacket, or the lack of guest manners?” Clover glanced back at him, smirking.

Qrow huffed. “The fighting style, actually. James fights the same way.”

“Good eye. James helped set that standard, for combat mages. A baseline for everyone to work off of.”

Qrow raised an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me he was your teacher as well as your commanding officer.”

The shovel skittered against the stone. Luckily, the ritual circle was made of harder stuff than ordinary tools. “He wasn’t—no. He was active in the military when I was in school. Met him after that, before I started working for him.”

Qrow could see it. A bright-eyed Clover watching James rise in the ranks in front of him, all admiration and loyalty. It still hurt, but not as much as it had. There was something bittersweet about knowing there had been someone in Atlas who would give James everything. James needed someone like that.

Clover carefully cleared from the corner outwards, and Qrow followed in his wake, checking that the old protections hadn’t been too worn by the encroaching wood, and making small repairs when necessary. No physical stone had been worn down, thankfully, so repairs were minimal. They talked a bit more, trying to outdo each other with academy stories. By the time they were done Clover was sitting on the ground on the other side of the circle, head thrown back in laughter.

“So—you had to do _landing strategies—”_

“Hey, I made it look _good._ Not my fault Tai didn’t mention you were supposed to wear shorts underneath skirts.”

“Even _I_ know that,” Clover said, but without any heat behind it. “Ozpin certainly had an…interesting teaching style.”

“What, they don’t throw you off of Atlas on the first day to see if you make it down?”

“Hardly. Most of the first semester is theoretical work. Perfecting the basics.”

Qrow shook his head. “Typical.”

“Although,” Clover said with a smile. “It was a common dare among first years to jump from the outer rim down to Mantle. There may have been a deal with a shopkeep to put up a target.”

Qrow smiled, and found he really meant it. Damn it all, but Clover was actually tolerable. Cocky, and still military to the core, but not quite as terrible as he’d appeared to be.

Clover gestured at the stone between them. “All set?”

“This part, at least.” Qrow stood up with a groan to survey his handiwork. The ritual circle was decently sized, layers upon layers of protective wards wrapped around a blank center large enough to hold a single person comfortably or two at a squeeze. Qrow was grateful that he’d had the foresight to put the extra work in. It had been handy to be able to work with the kids one-on-one to teach them to use it. Now, with what he’d have to do for James, it was an essential. The runes tracing the outside of the circle had been an absolute pain to chisel by hand, but Qrow had wanted the real deal, one that wouldn’t have to be remade after every rainstorm. Sometimes the old-fashioned way was just the most reliable.

He led Clover back inside for a quick midday meal and was irritated to find that the pantry seemed to like Clover just fine. They had simple but serviceable sandwiches, with some sort of spicy yellow glop that Clover had managed to convince the pantry to produce. After leaving Clover to clean up, Qrow tried to get the pantry to make more, and all he got was some sort of yellow flower.

“You have to believe in it,” Clover insisted when he saw Qrow scowling at it. “Expect that everything will go as it should.”

“Not exactly my strong suit.” Qrow rolled his eyes. “You survive a lot longer out here if you plan for the worst.”

Clover looked at him oddly for that, but didn’t say anything else.

James finally came down from the guest room, nodding to them both. “My apologies for oversleeping, it’s been a while since I had the opportunity.” He sounded…better. Not wholly so, but better. Qrow briefly wondered if they just let him be near the heart long enough that it might spontaneously jump back into James’ chest. Not impossible, but was probably going to take too long. Qrow would go mad if he had to spend one more day looking at this James.

James asked for paper, to write a note to himself, he said. Qrow gave it to him and watched him disappear upstairs. He turned to Clover. “How did you do it?”

Clover frowned. “Do what?”

Qrow gestured at James’ retreating form. “Live with that. Every day. Seeing him like this.”

Clover stood straighter, if it were even possible. “I had to believe he’d come back one day. It’s why I took the heart and followed him as soon as I could. Sometimes I wonder if that’s why he gave it to me. Because he knew I’d give it back.”

“Wouldn’t put it past him.” The James that Qrow had known had craved trust as much as he wanted to be able to give it. And with Clover the way he was, Qrow figured he had gotten to do both. “Come on, we’ve got more work to do.”

Finally, as the afternoon light bled into dusk, everything was set up to Qrow’s liking. Because he had absolutely no tolerance for fucking this up and a long career where absolutely everything _had_ fucked up, Qrow had pulled out every piece of equipment he thought might help them, even a little. Pitons designed to break up excess magical energy and ground it had been hammered into the stone around the circle. Every lamp or lamp-like thing Qrow owned was out to ensure they had enough light to work by if it ended up taking longer than he expected. The diagrams of the curse that he had made were set up on an easel where he would be able to read from them if needed. The wood beyond the cottage shimmered slightly on the other side of a slightly iridescent dome, a ward designed to completely insulate them from even the possibility of the magic of the wood interfering.

James sat where Qrow had put him almost an hour ago in the center of the circle, while Qrow checked each piton for the fifth time. “You’re stalling, Qrow.”

“You wanna risk getting blown to hell?” Qrow snapped back, then sighed. James was right. Everything was set. Dusk was even a fairly good time to try it. Dusk and dawn were transition points, where the day and night slipped past each other smoothly, without fail.

Qrow took a deep breath and held out a hand. Clover gently, almost reverently, placed the silver box in it and stepped back to the edge of the stone. “Just like the pantry,” Clover said, and winked. “It’ll work.”

Qrow muttered something unflattering about where Clover could put his sunshine attitude, but allowed himself half a smile. Clover’s confidence was contagious.

Right. It’ll work.

Qrow took the heart out of the box without looking directly at it. It was colder than he expected. It beat steadily against his palm, far slower than Qrow’s. He pressed it against James’ chest, brought one of James’ hands up to cover it, then covered James’ hand with his own. He could still feel the heartbeat, could hear it even. Qrow closed his eyes.

James didn’t have a heartbeat within his body, so within the circle there were only two. One fast and variable, one slow and steady. Two heartbeats. Qrow breathed slowly, in for a count of seven, hold for a count of seven, out for a count of seven. Two heartbeats, one fast, one slow. One slowing, one slow.

Qrow reached out with his power for the heart. The magic there was like so much yarn tied into the most intricate of knots and pulled taut. The ends all leaned towards James, as if buoyed by an unseen wind. Reaching for him. Qrow started with one strand, then another, pulling gently. The ball unraveled and showed him its winding paths. Qrow nudged them apart and realigned them, tying and untying until they would do what he needed.

Next, he pushed farther, to the plate in James’ chest, and repeated the process. When he was done, two sets of yarn reached out for each other across empty space. Frayed and tattered ends unraveled, entwined, and twisted again. Through it all, Qrow breathed steadily.

Two heartbeats, beating out of time. Two heartbeats, one after the other. Two heartbeats.

One.

Qrow opened his eyes and _shoved_ forward with all his might.

There was a flash of white, and Qrow again saw the white room, James holding the knife. Distantly, he heard something soft impact stone. Then he was blinking away stars in his vision, seated again in the circle, James in front of him, Qrow’s hand over his against James’ chest. The heart was gone.

James looked up from his chest at Qrow. His eyes were blue. So very blue.

“Qrow?” Afraid, astonished, _alive._

James lurched forward onto his knees and suddenly Qrow was holding him, holding broad shoulders that threatened to shake apart as the scratch of James’ beard pressed tight against his neck. He could feel James’ heart beat rapidly against his chest. His breathing came in quiet gasps, something that could have been sobbing in another man, but that wasn’t who James was. Even with his heart in his chest, James’ breakdowns had always been harder to see.

So Qrow held him, let him shake apart into Qrow’s arms, and when Clover came up behind James to hold him even tighter and rest his head between heavy shoulder blades, Qrow simply reached further to pull Clover in by the elbows. They’d hold James together for as long as he needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For being a pretty heavy chapter, the only notes I made were "Clover likes mustard, I have decided."


	5. In Which James Chooses a Hobby

“It’s…it’s good to see you again.”

They’d relocated to the kitchen table, some semblance of dinner mostly being handled by Clover, who had somehow gotten on good terms with the pantry. Qrow didn’t question it.

“Yeah,” he said, not sure what else to say, and then found it was true. Hearing James’ voice, with all the inflection it used to have, was nice, even if he still sounded pretty shaken. “You too.”

“And…I’m grateful. For what you did. Even if I might not always seem like it. This is…going to take some getting used to.” James’ voice cracked and he looked away from them.

That was new, and Qrow wasn’t sure how to deal with it yet. James hadn’t ever been terribly emotive, but suddenly being able to feel again seemed to have left him unable to mask it like he always had. Ignoring it meant giving James some semblance of privacy. Comforting him through it meant acknowledging it, and maybe embarrassing him. So Qrow was left stuck between the options, sipping another herbal tea Clover had come up with and sliding a handkerchief across the table.

James took it carefully in one hand and nodded without saying anything, bringing it up to dab at his eyes.

Clover came back to the table with three bowls of soup all carefully perched along one arm in a way Qrow was certain was impossible without magic, but they smelled warm and delicious so he didn’t press. Clover placed one in front of each of them and then, looking between them, picked a space at the table more or less splitting the distance. He turned to Qrow, one eyebrow slightly raised. “And thanks for letting us stay here, for a little while.”

Which was a rather presumptuous way of asking, but he wasn’t wrong. Qrow couldn’t just kick them out now, not with James still recovering. _When_ he could safely set James back out into a world that was at best not actively looking to behead him was another matter, one Qrow was going to try very hard not to think about for at least a week. He was exhausted, in body and mind, and for now, this would work.

He could tell James and Clover were holding hands under the table again. There was still a pang of longing, but it wasn’t directed at anyone anymore. James needed some comfort right now and if Clover was the one who could give it, well, good. Someone should.

“Comfort” had never been what they had, anyway.

Clover cleared his throat. “I found this in the ritual circle,” he began, and put an odd little contraption on the table. It looked like it was made of glass and marble, but it gave a bit when Clover let go, so it must have actually been something softer. A number of openings stuck out from what Qrow assumed was the top, and there was a very simple but powerful enchantment written on its sloped sides. It was also, thank the gods, spotlessly clean, so Qrow didn’t have to think about where it had been.

“Huh. It’s good work,” Qrow admitted.

“Atlas’ finest,” James mumbled, but reached out to turn it carefully in his hands. “Seems to still be in working order.”

Qrow and Clover both eyed him carefully. It wasn’t every day you got to hold your heart—one of them, anyway—in your hands. It wouldn’t have been surprising if it was too much. But James gave it a tiny smile, and placed it back down on the table. He looked up and seemed to recognize the expressions on their faces. “I’m alright. But, I think I’d rather not keep it. It’s a useful research prototype; it should be sent back to Atlas.”

Qrow nodded. “Can be arranged.” He offered the old silver box to James, who placed the artificial heart in it and closed the lid, before passing it back. In full view of the other two men, Qrow placed it on a side table, next to a bowl of dried roses and a few candle stubs. Out of sight, out of mind. But close enough to keep an eye on.

* * *

James came back to himself in fits and starts. That first quiet, miserable day, Clover made Atlesian comfort food and just talked with him around the kitchen table. Qrow spent most of the day out on a walk to give them space. Clover could connect with James more than Qrow could, on that point. And Qrow was pretty sure if he tried to talk to them about it, they’d all end up yelling.

And then, on the second day James woke up with a whole lot of pent-up energy, and Qrow knew exactly what to do with _that._ Well, he actually had two ideas. But the old method was probably a bit too intimate right now, and frankly offering to jump right back into bed with James right now seemed like a terrible idea for everyone in the cottage, so he settled on a more conventional way. Conventional for Qrow, anyway.

Hand-to-hand wasn’t exactly something you hoped to need as a witch, but it was something Qrow had insisted on learning and then teaching to his nieces, and he knew James had similar feelings about it as a good thing to know in a pinch. So when James stomped down the stairs one morning with tension written into every motion, Qrow simply said, “Outside,” and walked towards the front of the cottage, stripping down to a loose shirt and pants as he went. Stomping followed him out.

“Alright, Jimmy, come at—” he stopped.

James had taken off his jacket as well, leaving it by the door, but the look in his eyes had changed. It wasn’t all anger anymore, not quite. There was something else there, something familiar as he took in Qrow’s body, and Qrow shivered under the inspection.

No. Not that. Not _now,_ at least. “Forget how to punch, old man?” Qrow croaked, trying to goad James back into where he had been just a moment before.

“I’m not that much older than you, _Qrow.”_ And oh no, that was the voice, Qrow could not think about that voice right now—

Oh good, James’ fist had connected with his stomach. Now they were on the right track again, Qrow thought absurdly as he tried to roll with the punch.

Qrow had had more practice than James of late, he suspected, but James had the advantage of being taller and half-metal, and the fifth time he threw Qrow to the ground, Qrow coughed and tapped out. “Alright, that’s as much as I can take for the day.” James nodded, but he wasn’t breathing hard. Probably wouldn’t have minded a few more rounds, even.

“Tag me in.”

Qrow hauled his head up to look. Clover was at the door, having also shed his jacket and was cracking his knuckles like a pit fighter making an entrance. Qrow blew a raspberry. “Sure, be my guest.” James could beat the shit out of Qrow, but Qrow was pretty certain _he_ could beat the shit out of _Clover,_ so this should be fun.

It was just as delightful as he could have hoped. He got to heckle them both from his porch, sipping at his reheated coffee and clapping sardonically every time Clover clearly boosted his luck magic to get a hit in.

Eventually, Clover lay on his back in the grass and James sat down near him. “You leave your left side open,” he said, still barely out of breath. But he was smiling gently, a bit apologetic, so he was probably doing better.

“Sure,” Clover wheezed. “I’ll keep that in mind. I need a shower. Gods, I miss Atlas plumbing.”

And then Qrow remembered he hadn’t really given a full house tour. Also, he would always take any chance to prove he could do better than Atlas. “Can do one better than that.”

The thing was, Qrow liked nice things. And ever since he’d decided to live here permanently, he’d invested in making sure the cottage had nice things. One of those things was a well. Another of those things was a basement, with a pump connected to the well, and about seventeen permanent fire dust enchantments laid into the bottom of a stone pool that could be activated just as Qrow was leading guests down the stairs.

“You have a _hot spring_ in your _basement,”_ Clover said, clearly awed, and Qrow grinned.

“A little better than the Atlas communal showers, huh?”

“It’s _perfect.”_ Clover, with the absolute shamelessness of someone who knew how good they looked, stripped naked and walked directly into the steaming water without stopping. The groan of satisfaction as he lowered himself in was extremely unhelpful to Qrow’s attempts to stay annoyed with his general swagger. “James, you have to try this.”

James blinked. “Uh. Yes. Well.”

Qrow didn’t try to hide his snort of laughter at all. Clover was even worse than Nora. He went back up the stairs to give them a bit of space, and get a head start on what he could smell was another pantry-assisted breakfast Clover had negotiated from it earlier.

Clover and James reappeared an hour later, and when James declared he’d take a walk, he kissed Clover’s cheek on the way out. Any bitterness Qrow had about it was entirely overshadowed by the realization that James just gave him a perfect opportunity to give Clover shit about it.

“Seems like you’ve worked it out,” Qrow drawled. “If I knew that was all it took I would have given you the house tour earlier.”

Clover laughed and shook his head. “It was a long time coming, I think. We’d talked about it before, and for part of yesterday. He wants to try.”

“Helps that he’s not your boss anymore, huh?”

“Hey, some people like that,” Clover said, and winked.

Qrow tried not to choke on his coffee.

“In all honestly though, it mostly helps that we’re not in Atlas anymore,” Clover continued while Qrow cleaned up his mess. “He’s already looking a lot better.”

* * *

After a few failed attempts at housekeeping, James settled on gardening as a way to pass the time, and went about it in a decidedly James way.

One morning, armed with a pile of detailed drawings of plots and Qrow’s shovel, James started digging, until he had a nice square patch of dirt to work on. By the end of the day it had been perfectly segmented, and James was very carefully burning vegetable names into carved wooden stakes to use as markers.

And then in the following days, Qrow had the joy of watching the woods deal with someone as stubborn as itself.

Every morning the woods would try to grow little brambles that encroached on James’ neat square, and every day James would walk out, scowl, and trim them back to the exact edge of the plot. Weeds that sprouted up overnight would be relentlessly torn out and tossed back into the trees. Again and again, until in the middle of the day James pulled a weed from the dead center of the square, and stalked out into the forest.

“James—” Qrow warned.

But James waved the little weed in the air and kept walking. “It’s fine, Qrow. We’re going to come to an agreement. It knows I’m not afraid of it.”

After about ten minutes James walked back out of the trees, and that was that. The brambles grew to the exact edge of the garden, and no further. No more weeds sprouted within the plot. “What was the agreement?” Qrow finally asked a few days later.

“Blue roses,” James said, as if that clarified anything.

“What’s it gonna do with roses?”

“Just have them. But they require quite a bit of care to produce and maintain. And of course, blue is not a terribly common color. It will require some cross-breeding.” And then he pulled out a book on farming that Tai had given Qrow ages ago, one that Qrow had read about a paragraph of before tossing it back into the bookshelf and asking Ozpin for the pantry. “It’s all here, just need a few seeds or a cutting to start.”

They put Clover to the task, and one morning he disappeared into town because he “had a good feeling,” and came back with a small pouch of seeds. “Merchant was in town,” he explained, grinning, and then set about making the pantry cooperate for a midday meal.

James was smiling, too, and kissed him when Clover handed the seeds over. “Thank you, Clover. This is exactly what I needed.” And then he walked into the backyard, holding the little bag almost reverently.

Qrow looked from Clover in his kitchen to James outside the window and back, and wondered when exactly it had stopped being just _his_ house, and when he’d started to _like_ it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- It’s self-indulgent hot tub time, no one can stop me  
> \- Dumb animal crossing blue roses reference, blue roses are hard to get in animal crossing  
> \- Clover is doing some very heavy emotional lifting off-screen, because I, the writer, do not have the spoons for that conversation, even though it ought to be the whole point of this fic. Sigh.


	6. In Which Qrow is Courted

The garden seemed to help James a lot. He smiled and joined them for breakfast more as his sleep schedule evened out. It really did just feel like living with friends again. In fact, Qrow chuckled to himself, it was quite a bit like living with STRQ, because he was once again living with people who were head over heels in love.

Except this time, they understood personal space even  _ less. _

It started with small touches that made sense. Clover would gently nudge him aside to negotiate with the now much more agreeable pantry. James would tap his shoulder when he needed to move around him. But then the touches  _ lingered, _ and Clover would beam up at him with a fresh cup of coffee every morning, and James would offer to walk through the forest with him even though Qrow  _ explicitly _ brought it up to give the two of them some  _ alone time— _

It stopped him dead in his tracks when he realized it. James walked a few more steps into the woods before stopping. “Qrow? Are you alright?”

No, no he was not. He didn’t know where to start, frankly. “Are you and Clover…happy?”

James’ expression was…warm? “Quite. It’s taken some getting used to, but it’s…nice. I’ve always cared deeply for him, and now I have the chance to express it. It’s one of the few things I’ve done these past years that I can say I have no regrets about. I hope to be able to say that a lot more, soon.”

He drew himself up to his full height and adjusted his collar. “Qrow, I know this is long overdue, but I wanted you to know that I regret how we parted ways last time. I thought that it would be…easier, if I didn’t say goodbye. But it haunted me, for years afterwards. I hope that it didn’t cause the same pain for you.”

Oh, this was one horrible conversation after another. “It’s fine,” Qrow lied. “You had Atlas to run, and I had, well. I had problems.” He laughed and looked away.

James scowled and breathed a heavy sigh. “No, this is coming out wrong. I don’t mean—gods, why is this so difficult? I’m trying to say I missed you, Qrow.”

Qrow snorted. “I mean, I’d offer again, but it seems like—”

“No not, not  _ that, _ not that we wouldn’t—” James cut off again with a hiss. “Qrow, you were one of the few people, now one of the  _ only _ people I can trust that deeply. To accept me, here, to accept  _ Clover, _ whom you’d never met…I can’t believe it isn’t the same for you.”

He couldn’t keep it in his mind anymore, it had to come out. “Why are you two are flirting with me?” Qrow blurted.

James looked stunned at his bluntness, before pulling himself back together. But his eyes were casting around the forest. “For the same reason most people tend to flirt. We’d like to…try, as Clover called it.” His hand came up to rub at the back of his neck and oh, gods, this was James being  _ nervous. _ “He knows that I…and he’s also grown to…”

Qrow was frozen. He wasn’t going to be able to move again until James said it, but James couldn’t possibly say what Qrow desperately wanted to hear.

James sighed again and looked at his own feet. Then, quietly: “We’d like to love you, Qrow. If you’ll have us.”

He was going to black out. He was going to black out, and wake up and be alone in the forest again, long before James or Clover or any of this, because this had to be a dream, because there was no way this was on offer, there was no way that  _ love— _

But he did. He did love James, loved his stubbornness and his drive and his stupid, stupid heart, enough to shove it back in his chest even when he’d known that it wasn’t his to touch. And now James would give it back, and even Clover wanted to try.

Gods, Qrow wanted to let them.

“Okay.”

James’ face went through a brief moment of disbelief before settling on a kind of joy Qrow had never seen from him. There were creases at the corner of his eyes. “Good. That’s…good.” He held out his hand.

Qrow took it, and they walked back to the cottage.

* * *

Clover walked with him on his next outing a few days later.

“Had a hunch,” Clover explained, walking backwards in front of him and, irritatingly, not tripping on anything. “Like with the flower merchant. You’ve been out here looking for something, right?”

Qrow nodded. Ever since that first day Clover came, there hadn’t been traces of that same acidic scent, but he was wary. Things like that didn’t just disappear. More likely, that he had noticed once was a lucky thing in itself, and whatever this was was still biding its time. If he could locate more tangible evidence, he might be able to find out whatever this thing was, and get rid of it before it became a real problem.

“Also, I just wanted to hear your side of the conversation from last time. Did you get a James-patented love confession? How long did it take for him to say the word?”

“A bit,” Qrow laughed. A few days behind him, it  _ was _ a bit funny to remember. James had been so  _ worried. _ But the moment they’d returned to the house, hand in hand, Clover had beamed and pulled them both into a big hug. Something about “now you two can brood together” had been muffled into James’ coat before Clover had pulled them both inside and fashioned a nest out of what seemed to be every blanket Qrow owned so they could sit together by the fire and talk until it had dwindled to embers. Qrow, exhausted from the emotional whiplash of the day, had been lovingly bundled in blankets and brought to his room, and James and Clover had both kissed him goodnight.

Very little had materially changed, since that day. Being around them was still comfortable, still felt like  _ home. _ It was only that, now, when the touches lingered, Qrow would linger back, little reminders that yes, they were all here, and they were all together. It was perhaps the gentlest courtship Qrow had ever experienced, and he reveled in the newness of it.

Clover waved his hand in front of Qrow’s face. “You back yet?”

Qrow swatted at him. “Fuck off, Cloves,” he said, smiling. “Yeah, it was cute. Took him a solid minute at the end.”

Clover whistled. “And you just let him hang like that?”

“I didn’t know what to say.”

“‘James, you idiot, I’ve been in love with you for years?’”

Qrow briefly activated his curse ring, and Clover tripped on a tree root. “You ass, I saw that!” Clover laughed from the ground.

“You deserved it.”

Clover sighed. “Worth it, though. Help me up?” He held out his hand.

Qrow pulled him up and helped brush the dirt off him, then froze. That was it, that was the acidic smell. “Clover—”

“It’s here, isn’t it?” Clover said warily, looking around.

“Yeah, underground.” Qrow took out a trowel and knelt in the dirt. “Keep an eye out while I dig, this thing isn’t friendly.”

Qrow dug carefully, turning over each clod of dirt looking for something strange. After a few minutes, his trowel struck something that  _ crunched _ unpleasantly. He lifted it up for inspection.

It was the root of something, but not something Qrow recognized. It was gnarled and segmented and oozed an unhealthy purple sap, and smelled so strongly acidic that Qrow nearly gagged. “This is it. Part of it, anyway.”

“Should we dig up the rest?”

Qrow shook his head. “It’s probably all over by now. Better to take this, figure out what it is, and come back and deal with it with the right tools. Come on, maybe James’ new hobby will give him some insight.”

Qrow pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wrapped the root in it, careful not to touch it or any of the sap that seemed to flow indefinitely from the cut end. Clover walked a good distance from him on the way back.

“Sorry, it’s not you. That  _ thing, _ it…I don’t know how else to describe it. It doesn’t like me.”

Qrow believed it. As they came back to the cottage, James looked up from his garden and seemed to immediately know something was up. Qrow opened the handkerchief on the stone ritual circle, rather than bring it past the threshold of his cottage. “Any ideas, James?”

James stood across from it, rubbing soothing circles into Clover’s shoulder. “Nothing immediately. Doesn’t look natural. Magic?”

Qrow sat in the circle and placed his hands down. “Most likely. Better identify it before we try anything else.” He pushed a tiny thread of power at it.

Something  _ wrong _ clung to that thread and  _ pulled. _ Purple light flashed from the circle, and the root changed texture, no longer gnarled wood but smooth black chitin, the segments sharpening into the end of a scorpion’s tail.

_ “You killed her,” _ said a horribly familiar voice, one Qrow had hoped to never hear again.  _ “You killed her! You took her from us, and now we will take from you,  _ General _ Ironwood.” _

The stone circle cracked down its center. Purple and black ichor spilled out from the space between, drawing power from the circle, from  _ Qrow, _ until Qrow collapsed onto the stone and could do nothing but watch as the tail lifted from the ground and attached itself to the shape of a man Qrow thought to be long dead.

The shadow of Tyrian Callows smiled at him, before turning and driving its tail directly into Clover’s heart.


	7. In Which Everything Happens Very Fast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted this fic to be DONE so here we GO

The _thing_ that wasn’t quite Tyrian Callows cackled. “Now you match, O Heartless King!”

Clover collapsed into James’ left side just as James turned and opened his right hand. A burst of white fire sheared the top half of the creature’s body off, and the rest fell to the stone in a puddle. But the voice kept laughing.

 _“Oh,_ that _old thing? I have grown far beyond such need. This forest will do nicely for a resurrection site, don’t you think? A few more deaths, a bit more tribute from the village beyond, it will have a thoroughly_ detestable _aura when I’m through with it.”_

James was with Clover. That was about as far as Qrow’s thought process could go, because he couldn’t think anymore, he was so _tired—_

The garden was right next to him, the plot of land James had put so much work into. It had paid off; the first of the blue roses James had finally grown had begun to bloom.

The woods called for it.

James had run back into the cottage for something, Qrow didn’t know what. He was on his own, then. With the last of his strength he dragged himself towards the roses, the laughter ringing louder and louder in his ears. With a shaking hand covered in purple veins, he plucked the rose from its stem, placed it on the dirt outside of the garden, and made a wish. _Help?_

The dirt opened up under his hands and enveloped them. A sudden surge of _rightness,_ of _acceptance_ filled him, and he understood. The woods had never asked for anything before, but it had _needed_ this, not the rose but the _kindness,_ the amount of _care_ that had gone into them.

Magic came from many things, but mostly, magic was about _intent._ Qrow, Clover, and James had made this woods their home. The woods, in turn, was accepting them as wards.

The ground swallowed him whole, and Qrow saw the woods in its entirety. Every tree, every squirrel and crow and finch, every wretched root that the violent memory of Tyrian had laid beneath it. People, it could easily turn away with unease but this? The woods had not dealt with such concentrated malice before. It didn’t know what to _do_ with it.

Qrow did. Qrow wanted it to _burn._

With the power of the woods at his disposal he cast his magic out into every bit of Tyrian he could sense, burning along the pathways that criss-crossed the earth under the trees until he was nothing but ashes, nothing but dust that the forest could repurpose for itself. Tyrian _screamed._ Good. Qrow chased every last drop of acid from the cottage to the edge of the wood. He wanted Tyrian to _hurt,_ wanted to—

_Enough._

What?

_He’s gone. Come back, Qrow. Enough._

That sounded like—

Qrow gasped as his shoulders were hauled out of the dirt. “Qrow!”

Clover?

Clover was staring at him, scanning for injuries, most likely, wide-eyed and afraid and _alive._ Qrow blinked. Clover’s jacket was torn, just over his heart, but the skin there was already scarred over, like it hadn’t happened only a moment ago—

“James, over here!”

James appeared in his field of vision, too. When had his beard gotten so bushy? It looked soft. “Oh, thank the gods.”

Qrow swallowed. “How—” he started, before coughing too violently to continue. He tried to stand up, but his legs were trapped in something.

Clover put a hand on his face. “Shh. You’re okay. James, can you dig him the rest of the way out?”

Dig? Qrow looked down and yes, he was covered in dirt. His upper body was free, but his hips and legs were still buried in a few inches of soft earth. He looked up. They were under the trees. Hadn’t he been near the cottage? How had he—

“You were gone for _three days,_ Qrow,” said James, answering his unspoken question. “I came out of the cottage and you were _gone.”_

Cottage. James had run back into the cottage, that’s right. Why? And Clover, Clover was fine now? He held a hand up to the tear in Clover’s jacket and raised his eyebrows, hoping they would understand.

Clover nodded, and held Qrow’s hand to his chest with a small smile. “Tyrian thought it would be poetic to destroy my heart. Luckily, we had a spare.”

Qrow felt Clover’s chest, still but for the gentle rise and fall of his breath. Clover didn’t have a heartbeat, and he was alive. Like James had been. The artificial heart. So James had—?

“No extra magic this time, though,” Clover added hastily. “I still love you both, very much. I’m also furious, and I’m not letting you out of my sight for at least a week.”

“Two,” James grunted, and put one hand under Qrow’s knees and one under his shoulders, and lifted him like he weighed nothing at all. “Let’s get him home.”

_Home._

Qrow fell asleep just as the cottage came into view.

* * *

He woke up to birdsong.

Light was streaming into the room. He squinted against it, and rolled to face the other way.

Clover was snoring just a little, like he always did. His ridiculous little tuft of hair was squashed flat against his pillow. Qrow just listened quietly for a moment, to the sound of Clover’s breath and, if he kept very quiet, the steady hum of magic from the new heart in Clover’s chest. James had confidence it would outlast them all, and that there was nothing to worry about, but Qrow still listened, still checked every so often that it still sounded the same.

“You’re thinking too hard,” James said in a low rumble behind him. One large arm slowly slid over his torso to pull him close, and he felt the scratch of James’ beard against his head.

“You can’t _hear_ me thinking, Jim.”

“Don’t need to. You’re tense, so you’re thinking about it again. We’re fine, Qrow. Sleep. If you worry any harder you’ll wake up Clover.”

“’s right,” Clover mumbled without opening his eyes. “Don’ wake me up, or…coffee. Kidney beans.”

Qrow huffed a little laugh at that threat. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Would. Watch me.”

“Not for another two hours,” James declared. Clover hummed some sort of assent. Qrow rolled his eyes, but let the gentle breath and hum of his lovers lull him to sleep in the early morning.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Would love to hear what you thought of it all, and feel free to come say hi on Tumblr, I'm [PidgeonPostal](https://pidgeonpostal.tumblr.com/) over there as well.


End file.
